Scattered Notes
by Tatsumaki-sama
Summary: Parents often write little notes of reminders in their children's lunch.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or any of its characters.

**This was inspired by a story from the site GivesMeHope that truly touched me. I don't own it.  


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**Scattered Notes**

In all my years of teaching, I had often seen parents, particularly mothers, leave notes, crisp, clean and still smelling of breakfast, in the corners of their child's lunch, buried enough the plastic wrapped sandwiches and juice boxes.

They came in different sizes and different colours, often folded, some laid flat on the bottom of the lunch bags. Some of the writing seen was smooth and graceful. A few were scrawled across, simple and easy for children to understand. Others were filled from top to bottom, minute print squeezed from corner to corner. More than enough had only a scarce amount of words scratched upon the paper.

What was written varied from child to child. It was often amusing to see some of them read theirs out loud and grimace in embarrassment from the content that they had read.

_Remember to bring your jacket home. You forgot it last time._

_You forgot to get your sandwich. I packed it here for you. Love, Mom._

_Give your extra juice box to your sister, all right? _

_You have a soccer practice after school. Dad will pick you up at 5:30. I'll be making pasta with meatballs. Your favourite._

These were common, regular messages and reminders that you would see everyday, everywhere. I myself had received similar ones back in my childhood.

But there was one little boy in my grade 1 class who received little notes in his lunch just as any other child in the class. Whenever he did, he would always smile and carefully pocket them, treasuring them as if they were gold.

His name was Matthew.

He was quieter and shyer than most boys and children his age, opt to remain hidden behind his classmate. During recess, he often retreated to a corner, content to play with his stuffed polar bear that he had brought from home.

I've watched him for some time, wondering why. His grades were good and he has never failed to attend a class, even if he wasn't noticeable majority of the time (I have to admit that I missed his name a few times on the attendance list and he would always politely remind me afterwards). If he had a chance to interact with the other children, he was always kind and friendly. And there was nothing to indict that his other classmates bully him or despise him. It was just that Matthew was too quiet and passive for his own good and easily overlooked.

It wasn't until the year's first Parent-Teacher interview that I found out why. On that day, I found myself meeting, talking and shaking hands with many parents, most older than me while some were younger.

The youngest to meet me was Matthew's older brother Alfred.

He couldn't have been more than eight years old, yet he held himself tall and proud like every other adult in the room. The resemblance between the brothers was remarkable. Short blond hair. Sharp, clear blue eyes behind glasses. Baby fat still clinging to their cheeks. If Matthew was a little bit older and Alfred a little bit younger, they could have been twins.

He introduced himself like an adult, even holding out his hand. Without even prompting him, Alfred rattled off all about how he has heard about me, almost eyeing me with cautious suspicion, something I was familiar with protective older siblings.

Then, he began talking about himself, how he was the top in his grade four class, what he did that recess on that day and how he was able to kick the soccer ball so high that it went over the fence. All the while Matthew stayed behind his brother, clutching his sleeve, looking at me with shy embarrassment.

When I pointed out Matthew's perfect test scores and all the drawings and pictures that he drew, Alfred grinned and ruffled Matthew's hair affectionately. " That's my brother," he would say proudly.

Which, in my opinion, sounded oddly strange coming from an eight year old boy. Normally, it would be the father declaring that while patting his son or daughter on the head, just like what Alfred was doing to Matthew.

The rest of the parents stared and whispered, wondering about Matthew and Alfred's parents and why they couldn't attend, leaving their oldest son to do so. I wondered too. If Matthew's parents didn't care enough to attend their youngest son's first Parent-Teacher meeting, then who was it that left those messages for Matthew during lunch?

I later found out who and why.

Their father had left their mother not too long after Matthew was born, his heart and mind too obsessed with other women. And their mother preferred to drown her sorrows in alcohol, spitting out curses and sobs in the empty house, to even think about her children.

Alfred was all Matthew had, the only one who ever truly listened to his silence and understood what he was trying to say.

And Matthew was all Alfred had, the only one who made the hellish nights more bearable and worth living for.

So now when I glimpse upon the little lunch notes that_ Alfred_ had left for Matthew, I cannot help but smile.

_Hey Mattie! I made your peanut butter-jelly sandwich all by myself! Pretty cool, huh?_

_If you finish all your homework today, I'll take you out for some ice cream. My treat._

_Go meet me at my locker after school and we'll walk home together, okay?_

_Remember ... I love you. _


End file.
